


Our Old Story

by sunnyjeno



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Reminiscing, Unfulfilled Loves, first snow, mentions of other members - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-09 01:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17397485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnyjeno/pseuds/sunnyjeno
Summary: After years of being away, Kun returns home to memories he thought forgotten, and a voice that reminds him of the past.





	Our Old Story

It had been years since he last stepped in the country. Long gone were the signs of his flourishing youth, adulthood leaving its permanent scar on his face and his heart. The days of wilderness that he held dearly in memory had become blurred, old photographs inside boxes that he wouldn’t open anymore. His eyes, bleary with a tiredness that ran bones deep, took in the world around him, one he hadn’t seen in a long time.

 

The streets were covered with a thin layer of the first snow—at least that felt familiar, he thought—and the cobblestones he had walked so long ago still showed him the way home. It all felt familiar, and yet so strange, like finding an old belonging that one thought lost.

 

His umbrella was of little help to mitigate the biting cold, but he still held onto it dearly, if not for utility, for comfort. The scarf wrapped around his face hid all emotion, and in the blackness of the night, he was but a pillar of darkness in his navy blue coat, slightly weathered by the time. It felt weird to sneak around in the shadows, almost as if he was ashamed of his return, but the time difference had made it so that no other way could be arranged.

 

Kun was home. The little apartment felt foreign, even when the old key opened it so naturally. The furniture was covered in white sheets, and as he slowly uncovered it, he relived the memories held within them.

 

_ “Merry Christmas to you all, don’t buy into the government’s message that you are powerless! The real gift is being able to make a change and give to others!” _

 

He chuckled at the words Yuta had said so long ago, when their group of friends celebrated their first holiday together, before time had inevitably settled itself between the crevices of their friendship, separating them all. Last he had heard of Yuta was a year or two back, when the other was excitedly informing him about his current campaign. It was almost bizarre, relating the activist to the college second year who drank himself silly that Christmas night.

 

_ “For the last goddamn time, I will chuck you the salad bowl if you ask us if dinner is ready again.” _

 

That had been Doyoung, who hadn’t been the best cook (he was more of a bare-minimum assistant to Taeyong, but Kun wouldn’t tell him that), but certainly made their group dinners a whole lot funnier. Kun had kept contact the best he could, although the sporadic texts spread across the year were meager in comparison to how much they used to talk. Of course, could Kun blame him? Doyoung had been occupied with his job as a lawyer, and if the few cases he had been able to hear about were any indication, a good one at that. He remember, particularly, when Doyoung had taken to defending a man accused of murder, who was later discovered to be innocent, and would otherwise have been sent to jail for life.

 

Kun couldn’t find it in him to be offended when their friendship had faded. He’d much rather observe his friends as they succeeded in somehow making the world a better place. Kun even felt, though he wouldn’t say it out loud, a small amount of shame when comparing himself to them. He was happy, no doubt—traveling the skies had been a dream, and the amount of people he met after he’d accepted the job was hardly something to be ashamed of—but when he thought of it, his wishes had been a little selfish, riddled with youthful inexperience.

 

Things were different now, though. He’d enjoyed his time out there, but now he wished to settle down, to step on the ground after all of those years. It bubbled inside of him, the anxiety and excitement to reconnect with what he had left before… whom he had left before.

 

Reminiscing had been amusing, but Kun dreaded entering the bedroom, fearing the memories that he knew would come to him. The stillness of the air, the moonlight through the window, the walls that lacked color, it all hit him in a wave of nostalgia that overwhelmed him, almost drowning him. Of course. Not even the years could make him forget.

 

He turned on the radio—Taeil wouldn’t let him live down the fact that he had such an old appliance, but Kun had clarified that it was part of his  _ vintage  _ style—and paused when he realized he didn’t need to change the station. It was eleven at night, and though it was silly, Kun hoped to hear the voice that he had loved so long ago. 

 

‘Of course he isn’t there, Kun. Did you think he would stay in the same place, waiting for this long?’ He chastised himself.

 

Kun really wanted to say yes. But Jaehyun had left the radio a few years ago, talking about broadening his horizons, and it was only logic that Johnny had left too.

 

“ _ Love is distant when it is painful,”  _ Spoke an unknown voice on the radio,  _ “We look for it in the unseen spots of our skin, and in dark alleyways that lead nowhere nice. Love is waiting when it’s true. Many times we are left behind, or we leave behind others, but true love will bring us back. For those of us who are still waiting, here’s a song by Cho Deok Bae.” _

 

Kun chuckled quietly to himself, though there was no hint of happiness as much as there was of bitterness. Of course this type of song would play when he thought of him. He laid down on the old bed, the one he had planned to replace, and listened to the song, quietly, and then tearfully. The lyrics spoke of a waiting lover, hurt because of his significant other’s childishness. How fitting.

 

_ “You better listen to me on the radio! Remember, Tuesdays at eleven, I’ve left the channel as a preset!” _

 

Johnny had always been enthusiastic, and when he was offered a position as a DJ for the radio show, he had ran to Kun, to tell him of the good news.

 

_ “The first snow is always so dreamlike, isn’t it? It’s like a fairy-tale. Our little winter wonderland.” _

It had been like a fairy-tale, Kun conceded. Their hands drawn together as they strolled down the streets, only hopeful wishes lying ahead. They had been the happiest, and things seemed to be looking up for them. If only life didn't have different plans.

 

_ “Do you really have to leave? Do you know when you’ll come back?”  _ Kun didn’t know.  _ “Well, I can’t promise I’ll wait forever… but if by any chance you come back, and nothing major has changed… I don’t think I’ll leave any time soon.” _

 

Kun shook his head and wiped the stray tears that traveled down his cheeks. He was too old to be crying about unfulfilled loves. It would be foolish to believe that Johnny, passionate, intelligent and positive as he was, had stayed there. Not with his potential.

 

_ “The first snow is always so dreamlike,”  _ the radio spoke again, and Kun found himself turning to look at it,  _ “For many it’s like a fairy-tale, the beginning of love. But not all fairy-tales have happy endings. Sometimes we have to say goodbye to the people we love the most, because there are bigger things waiting for them. That doesn’t mean we stop loving. Even if we can’t wait forever…” _

 

Kun tuned out from whatever the voice was saying, as he was sure he had gone insane. That voice couldn’t be real. It was impossible. It was unchanged.

 

“ _...I don’t think we forget.” _

 

The next song played, but Kun couldn’t hear much of it. He felt the dampness of his cheeks, and the way his chest felt warm, overwhelmingly warm, and the way his smile widened, despite the tears. 

 

It was all so strangely familiar, coming back after all those years. But the promise left unfulfilled had returned to him, and so he laid down, once again at home, determined to find him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on twitter @/douxkun, and on Curious Cat @/douxsun


End file.
